The Calm Before The Storm
by AlyssaNobody
Summary: This is a HG/SS ship and AU. Come along with Hermione as she relives the last six months leading to Dumbledor's death and her adventures going into her 7th year at Hogwarts.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer- I do not claim to own Harry Potter or anything mentioned in this story

Disclaimer- I do not claim to own Harry Potter or anything mentioned in this story. This is all from the mind of the lovely and talented Ms. Rowling. Also, in my fan fiction, certain events in Deathly Hollows will not take place. In order to risk not giving anything away… Here we go!!

"I still can't believe it." Hemione Granger shook her head as she laid back in her seat on the Hogwarts Express and pulled out a tattered piece of parchment that had been her greatest comfort. It was June, 1997 and the students had been sent home for the summer holiday. Harry merely glanced out the window, knowing this would be his last time taking this journey. Dumbledor was dead. And had to be avenged. And who better to do it than Harry, his friends, and the Order (excluding Severus Snape.) The distracted Mr. Potter looked over to Hermione, who was equally distracted. She was holding a piece of parchment and studying it carefully. Harry noticed tears forming in her brown eyes; Harry knew the reasoning for this and would not push the matter. He found himself thankful that Ron was not paying attention in the slightest; he was too involved in a book about Quiddich. Hermione didn't need his banter, not at this moment. Not when she wanted and needed to remember what she lost.

Six Months Earlier

"Harry!! Ron!!" A cheerful Hermione hugged her two best friends. For the first time in the New Year, she was back at Hogwarts. And she was happy to be back with her friends. "How was your Holiday?" She asked a bright smile on her lips that didn't go unnoticed. Any boy who was in their sixth year and was in their right mind would have. She had grown from the know-it-all with bushy hair and large front teeth, to a perfectly groomed young woman of seventeen. Her brown hair was worn in spiral curls, sometimes pulled back in various forms, her body was the bearer of curves, and her smile was beautiful. The young, naïve girl who had started at Hogwarts: School of Witch Craft and Wizardry had grown into a beautiful young woman who was of age in the magical world they lived in.

Along with the mere boys, another noticed Hermione's smile. Severus Snape sat at the staff table, "enjoying" a welcome back feast for the students who went away for the Christmas holiday and listening to the small talk of his colleagues. Something he'd rather not hear, but he could not protest. But it gave him an excuse to look at the young witch who reminded him so much of the only woman he had ever loved before he saw the woman Miss Ganger had become. She had no right to be like Lily…but at the same time…Miss Granger had every right. It made him feel as if he had not lost everything with Lily and could have a chance to set things right…The only cruel twist that fate had created was the fact that Miss Ganger was his student…He could not act on his impulses.

"Professor Snape," Albus Dumbledor had turned from Professor McGonagall and their conversation to face Snape. The wiry hair of the professor moved according to the head's sharp turn from the reunion between Miss Ganger and her moronic friends at the Headmaster's voice, "I would like to see you in my office after the feast to discuss certain matters."

"Of course Headmaster," Snape said with a nod. He picked up his fork with his long fingers, eyeing Miss Granger as she sat and chatted with her fellow Gryffindors.

"Did you get anything good for Christmas 'Mione?" The red headed Ronald Weasley as he stuffed his mouth with the elegant foods provided by the house-elves of Hogwarts. All Hermione did was nod, her brown eyes daring to search for black cloaks at the staff's table for, what she concluded, was no reason at all. But Harry watched as one of his best friends carried out her secretive action. For what she was looking for, Harry didn't know, and, as per usual, Ron was oblivious.

"My parents bought me a collection of used books." Hermione smiled gently as she looked away from the staff table and to her friend. "Mostly Jane Austin and various other muggle authors." She held onto her smile, knowing Ron wouldn't know many. "What about you Ronald?"

Ron shrugged at this question, looking up to Hermione with a one sided smile. "Nothing as grand as you. Percy bought a new broom and told Mum and Dad to give me his old one." But Hermione wasn't paying much attention. Which was unusual for her as she was always the one who was sincere. However, something had happened over the Christmas holiday…Something she couldn't tell anyone.

Later that evening, Hermione found herself wandering back to the Gryffindor common room without her topical companions. Ron wanted to keep stuffing his face, Harry wanted to rest and finish up his essays that were due in the morning, and Hermione was keen on getting to the library before students were required to be in their dorms. After spending a month with her muggle parents and without her books on the Wizarding world, she felt rather empty. There was only one thing that kept her connected to who she was, and that was a lovely owl by the name of Gregor that came to her room nightly with long scrolls of parchment from an anonymous person describing his or her affection for her and how he drives him or her mad without poor Hermione even knowing it. One of her favorite letters, albeit creepy, contained Sonnet 130 from Shakespeare's collections. With that knowledge, Hermione assumed that the witch or wizard who sent her these letters was a muggle-born like herself. She would find out soon.

When Hermione reached the library, she took a deep breath. Along with wanting to take out a few books on her world, the last piece of parchment, (the one with Sonnet 130 written out), was instructions to meet this person in the library after the feast. Curiosity got the best of young Hermione, so she agreed to the meeting. Unsure what to expect, the young witch pulled a copy of "Hogwarts: A History" from the shelves. She couldn't help but to smile. Over the years, this had been her favorite book. Now it seemed small compared to most books she read, especially muggle books.

But that was what she was left with that very book. Hours passed, Hermione finished one book, began another. And her pen pal over the Christmas Holiday remained in the shadows. He couldn't bear to reveal himself to her…not yet…Not under the circumstances. He wasn't ready for it like he thought he would be when he sent the owl. And that left Hemione heart broken. After waiting two hours, she shelved the book she had been reading and looked around one last time, looking for any form of movement in the candle light.

Silence.

More Silence.

Nothing.

A downtrodden Hermione looked down, feeling hot tears well up in her eyes as her breath became shaky. She was let down. She had hoped, so hard, that he would show himself to her. That he'd end the mystery. The mystery lived on.

Meanwhile

"You wished to see me Headmaster?" Severus Snape said as Dumbledor sat behind his desk. The old wizard leaned back into his chair and patted his stomach as though he were full from the bountiful feast he had so very much enjoyed. All Snape could do was look at a near by clock, hoping this meeting would be finished quickly as he had set a prior engagement. As out of character as it was for him…Snape was eager to get to the library.

"Yes Severus…" Albus said as he stood up and began talking of Order business. Whenever Dumbledor's back was turn, Snape would roll his eyes, hoping that each point was the last. He could only imagine how long she had been waiting, how long she had been sitting in the place where they were set to meet. And he could only hope to forgive him.

Two hours passed and Snape had given up any hope that he would be able to end whatever was started, all while ending a torment. Snape has resolved to sitting in the chair across from Dumbledor's desk as the old man spoke business. Towards the end of the meeting, the head that held wiry black hair was being cradled by the pale hand and long fingers of Severus Snape who kept his posture nearly perfect with the exception of lean his body had naturally created in order to cradle his head in his hand.

"That'll be all Severus," Albus said, finally as he slid a book back onto the shelf that owned it. Severus stood up, nodded a bow to Albus, and left. He walked as quickly as he could, his cloak billowing behind him as he navigated the corridors and the stair cases. He could only hope that she was still there, reading if anything. And that she hadn't brought the moron twins to what was supposed to be extremely secretive.

And there was lucky. There she stood, near tears as she put a book away. Severus could not move and knew that he'd be able to hide behind the mask of darkness. He could not go to make himself known to her in this state. He often forgot that young Miss Granger was just that… young. She held herself so highly, like a grown, intelligent woman…But underneath it all…She was still a teenage girl with raging hormones…and worst of all…she was his student. He was hoping to stamp out whatever hopes he had left from his time with Lily with this meeting. But as he watched the beautiful young woman caress her beloved books, her beautiful brown eyes darting around the darkened room, he found that his endearment for her only grew. He watched as a silent tear rolled down her cheek which was flushed with embarrassment as her tear-filled eyes spoke of lost hope.

When the young Miss Ganger left the library, Severus scolded himself. He had missed his chance. Trelawney would have thought it to be a sign, which was why Severus rarely associated himself with the woman. But Severus…just saw it as something maddening and headed to the dungeons. He needed to be alone to calm his anger and develop a new plan of so-called attack. Already, he knew he would be up until the late hours. Anything for her.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer- I do not claim to own Harry Potter or anything mentioned in this story

Disclaimer- I do not claim to own Harry Potter or anything mentioned in this story. This is all from the mind of the lovely and talented Ms. Rowling. Also, in my fan fiction, certain events in Deathly Hollows will not take place. In order to risk not giving anything away… Here we go!!

"Where were you last night 'Mione?" Ronald Weasley asked as he poured some pumpkin juice into his mug. He offered to pour for his friends via a simple glance between the two and his sister. Hermione shook her head, too enthralled by a muggle book to care for pumpkin juice; Harry held out his mug and muttered a thank you, as did Ginny. But Ron's eyes were locked on Hermione Ganger, waiting for an answer.

The young witch looked up, the small voice in the back of her mind urged her to answer the question and stray from the novel for a mere moment. "I went to the library. I thought I told you that last night Ronald," she spoke with a hint of venom. The young Miss Ganger was not in a pleasant mood that morning. The events of the previous night or lack of events, just made her feel horrible. She had just known that the owls she received were cruel jokes. Probably from the mind of Draco Malfoy, just so he could entertain himself during his Christmas holiday. Hermione Jean Granger felt horrible, and she was hurt. In fact, the mere thought of it sent tears to her honey-like eyes.

"Oh, yeah," was all the red-head could muster before he consumed a sip of his daily pumpkin juice. He didn't notice the pain and hurt in dear Hermione's eyes. However, a pair of obsidian ones could. After all, they knew their own looks and could spot the horrid emotions in any other living being. And it killed the owner of these black eyes for he could do nothing to comfort the young Gryffindor.

A night of fire whiskey and destroying one's room often left a mess. Professor Severus Snape was a walking example of it that morning. After retreating from the library, Snape stormed to his quarters; malice, hared, and pain all played, disapprovingly, with his emotions. Surely, a man of his stature, age, and education would be able to control such petty things that emotions were to him. Merlin knows that he's done a good job of it after his verbal assault on Lily Evans nearly twenty years prior to that day. That, along with being Dumbledor's secret liaison, a wizard had to know how to control his emotions and put up a façade. But after seeing Miss Granger so upset…it hurt him as much as Lily showing obvious disdain towards him, if not more hurt. To know that he had caused her tears, the beautiful blush of embarrassment that the young witch wore so well… It took a part of his already shattered heart away, causing more cracks for his outward persona to creep into the core that held the true Severus Snape.

That morning, however, he had to be composed. He had to be the miserable professor that he was every day, not some miserable man who had caused pain to his star pupil, (he only denied it for the sake of his reputation.) Still, he watched her taking breakfast in the Great Hall. The spark of excitement was not present in her honey brown eyes like they had been the previous night. She barely even responded to her "best friends'" ramblings that surround her. Instead, she was lost in her personal escape: A book. This morning's literature consisted of "Emma" by Ms. Jane Austin. The normally cherry Gryffindor was lackluster that morning. The wonderfully brilliant comet that was being hidden at that moment by the sun, kept her noise in that bloody book with pain laced in the eyes that scanned the pages. And Snape had no one to blame but himself. If only he hadn't made such dangerous plans to reveal himself as the maddened man that he had become…Suddenly, defense against the dark arts with Miss Granger didn't seem as exciting… Not if she were to give a dull performance.

"Ron…Be careful with those!" Hermione, though still plagued with her sorrow, did not let that small detail distract her in today's potions class. Not when ashwinder eggs were being used. He sure was getting on her nerves that day. He had already been careless with their first batch of amortentia and had placed too many of his own hairs into the potion. _How is it that every potion that involves human manipulation needs hair from the target? _Hermione thought as she rolled her eyes and nudged Ron to one side. She was in no mood to deal with Professor Slughorn and Ron was not going to help her cause in the slightest by turning their potion the shade that his hair was. "Ashwinder eggs are precious," the young Gryffindor stated as she plucked a few of her hairs and placed them in the cauldron, causing the steam to dance in the air. The show was like watching lovers' bodies mingle, desiring one another, and forming a large heart in the movement. The scent was familiar. Professor Slughorn had warned that the potion would be alluring; she had not imagined it being like this. The scent of rain, herbs, and smoke assaulted her sense of smell. And she found it comforting. In fact, it reminded her of grandmother's home. Perhaps that's why it comforted her so?

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley…" The tall figure, better known as Professor Slughorn, came up behind the pair. His long arms were folded over his chest as he looked down to the friends. He had come to examine their progress, hoping that they would not fail with this task. "I see your potion has become a most attractive color. This color tells us that your concoction is read for testing." He leaned over the cauldron, checking the color. The duo from Gryffindor had done their job correctly. And more than the color told this to Snape.

The potions master closed his eyes, holding a neutral expression as he took a step away from the work bench. "Mr. Weasley," Slughorn said as Ron looked to Hermione with a frightened look on his face all while swallowing whatever pride he brought into this classroom. "Take a sample of your potion; let's see if your potion is effective," The professor smirked as he watched Ron meticulously drank some of what Hermione easily made. The poor red-head was mostly afraid of what would happen. Even he knew this could end badly. But it was either drink the draught or have Gryffindor loose points. What other choice did he have?

Two pairs of eyes eagerly waited for the result of such a draught. Slughorn's reasoning was simple: He had to see if his students performed the task properly. And Hermione watched because she knew that her chestnut hair made her the target of the love potion. She winced as Ron drank the potion and looked down, prepared for what obsession and infatuation would come within the next few days.

"Professor…" Hermione spoke softly as she looked up to the black figure hovering over her work station. She needed to be out of the class room as quickly as possible lest she wanted to be embarrassed further. "May I be excused from this exhibition?" She kept her nervous brown eyes on her professor, hoping he would grant her one wish.

"No. We must see how this affects him." All Hermione could do was shake her head, her hand over her mouth. She felt as though she was going to vomit, fall ill to her nerves. She had known for ages that Ron had fancied her and she…did not return his affection. All while Slughorn watch intently.

"I'm sorry Professor." Hermione got up quickly, gathering her things and running out of the class room. She wasn't going to stand to watch Ron's not-so-obvious attraction turn into very obvious attraction. She needed fresh air. But even that seemed impossible as she closed her eyes and took a deep breath of the air that circled around the castle. It was as if the fates were trying to punish her that day. Within the moment that she closed her eyes and turned the corner, she hit something, or rather…someone…that'd stop her progress to Gryffindor Tower. She was paralyzed. The scent…rain…herbs…smoke…The scent of alchemy, the scent that comforted her so much.

"I trust, Miss Granger…" A deep voice penetrated her sense of hearing; much like the scent of the amortentia potion assaulted her sense of smell. Now, Hermione dare not open her eyes. If you had been in Hogwarts one day, you would have easily known who that voice belonged to. "…Your lack of paying attention is due to your Gryffindor friends finally corrupting you." The smug smirk crept across Snape's lips as he looked down to the young witch. It was like a solar eclipse; the smirk lasted only a few seconds if that.

"I-I'm sorry Professor Snape." Hermione still had her eyes close, but she knew her head was bowed down. Even with eyes wide shut, she could feel the cold, black eyes of Severus Snape burning holes into her being. "…It won't happen again." She mumbled, pulling her bag further up her shoulder, closer to her neck.

That slight movement caught Snape off guard. He was thankful that Miss Ganger's eyes were closed. Had they been open to him, she would have caught him looking at her neck. He would compare it to that of a swan, long and graceful as it tilted stretched slightly to one side to accommodate what must have been a heavy bag. Snape adverted his eyes quickly, rolling his eyes at himself for even thinking of her as something more than a student. "Open your eyes you foolish girl." The comment held Snape's usual brand of impatience for Gryffindors and for her in particular. And she did. Hermione opened her eyes and looked up at Snape, the embarrassed blush from the night before back on her cheeks. And he rolled his eyes again.

"I'm sorry Professor." She repeated as she nodded her head. She could feel the heat in her cheeks and she looked down again, hoping Snape didn't notice that she was obviously flushed. Further more, she didn't want him discovering the reason why. She already had to deal with Ron and the affects of the amortentia potion; she did not need an infatuation, especially not with a Professor.

"Do not let it happen again." Snape said in his deep voice, moving to one side to let the young witch pass. She nodded towards him again as she walked past him. The air behind her leaving a scent of lavender and old books along with the scent of winter. _Oh god._ Snape thought as he continued his journey to Dumbledor's office. The scent that followed the muggle-born girl reminded him so very much of another muggle-born witch: Lily Evans. _Oh sweet Merlin._ He shook his head, keeping his demeanor even if he just wanted to clutch his heart and weep. He would have plenty of time to do that later in the privacy of his quarters.

Back in the comfort of the Gryffindor common room, Hermione sat in front of the fire that the house-elves had made. Crookshanks pounced onto her lap, sensing Hermione's distress. The young witch let out a soft smile as she stroked the orange fur of her pet and pondered what had just happened. She remembered Professor Slughorn mentioning something about how the amortentia potion gave off the scent of what one finds most appealing. In Hermione's, case it was the scent of alchemy and rain. And how odd it was to her that Snape would possess these qualities. Qualities that brought her back to the holiday the students had just returned from. Gergor would bring her letters and along with the scent of parchment, she could smell the herbs that were on hands of whoever wrote to her. The puzzle pieces were there and the image on the box left Hermione confused. That confusion got to her and by the fire side, she combusted and succumbed to the tears that wanted to be set free. Not even magic would be able to solve this one easily.


End file.
